


The Unexpected

by Leni



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Dark Castle, F/M, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: Life at the Dark Castle is about to take yet another turn.(One-shot collection)





	1. station

Any woman of her station would already be in hysterics at this new development.

Two months without her courses would have been welcome news to share with a husband, but Belle finds herself sitting on her bed, staring at her midsection and counting back the days, hoping to find a mistake in her original calculation.

After another hour, Belle decides to take a deep breath. Reminds herself that she doesn’t live in Avonlea anymore, where a lady who bears her lover’s child would be watched with scorn.

In the Dark Castle there has been no one to care whether she remains a maiden or has accepted a man into her bed. Likewise there will be no one to point an accusing finger or look at her in disappointment if her belly swells with Rumpelstiltskin’s child.

She is safe from stares and malicious whispers, and Rumpelstiltskin won’t allow a single insult to be thrown at her. He has already announced to the world that Belle is under his protection, and proved it when Regina would have taken revenge on her for foiling her plans.

He has been content to have her stay in the Dark Castle, happy to let her fall asleep against him at night, and have her close during the day. There have been no signs that he has tired of her. Instead Belle has felt his wary approach on an emotional level, the slow building of trust and the hesitant exchange of confidences.

Once Rumpelstiltskin knows about this, he will… He will…

Her mind draws a blank, and Belle touches her abdomen gingerly, wishing he had mentioned children beside his assurance that she didn’t need to worry about it.

“But I’m worried, Rumple,” she whispers.

He isn’t there to answer, and Belle can’t stop wondering what he will say when he finds out.


	2. Chapter 2

Rumpelstiltskin returned home with gifts and stories; his trip cut short by half and himself quite proud of having pulled all the necessary strings in his plans in such a brief time. A book in yet another foreign language in his hand, he pops into the library still in his traveling clothes. Seeing Belle as soon as possible has become more important than avoiding her teasing over the overwhelming dragonhide coat he wears to awe strangers.

The world would laugh, to watch the Dark One wander in his cursed castle in shirtsleeves and a silly smile, eyes following the auburn-haired girl who had stolen so much of his attention that Rumpelstiltskin must often force himself to attend to the building of the Dark Curse. But then Belle would kiss his cheek and ask, with genuine concern, whether he’d already had a meal - and why should the fools of the world matter at all?

Today, however, Belle wouldn't fling herself off her chair for a welcoming hug. He waited for a moment, then another, until amusement turned into dread. The book disappeared into a small cloud of smoke, and his thumbs rubbed against his forefingers, barely keeping from transporting himself away as well. Belle wouldn't play at ignoring him. If she was upset with him, she would face him fearlessly, a dozen arguments at the tip of her tongue. He licked his lips, feeling his insides twist with the badly suppressed knowledge that her affections were not meant to last forever - of course she doesn’t…! - why should she…?

He took a deep breath again only when he realized that Belle had given no sign to have sensed his presence.

“Belle?” he said softly. He’d heard of people who sleep with their eyes open.

When Belle turned to him, he knew that wasn't the matter. On the contrary, there were deep, dark rings under her eyes, and her face was so pale that he rushed to her side, tilting her head up and feeling for a fever or some sickness before either says another word.

“Rumple.” Belle shifted in discomfort against his questing hands. “What’s wrong?”

Reassured of her health, Rumpelstiltskin released her. “I was about to ask the same thing."

She responded by twisting her body so she was snuggling against him. For once, her face turned away so Rumpelstiltskin didn't need to hide his smile. That she was at ease in using the Dark One for her comfort amused him as much as it calmed his anxieties. Thinking to help her relax, his hands came onto her shoulders. His intention was to massage the taut muscles, but instead he let go when Belle startled at his touch.

He stared at her, though she still wouldn’t turn around. “Belle?”

Belle shook her head. Her hand, however, searched for his, and her grasp was so tight that Rumpelstiltskin must admit that the odds that she meant to end their relationship are low.

“Sorry,” Belle said at last. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t sleeping very well. Or at all.”

Rumpelstiltskin wondered at that. Up to his departure three days before, he hadn’t noticed any anomalies in her sleeping pattern. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

She nodded emphatically. “Better than ever,” she told him, though the tenseness of her spine didn't abate an inch. “I just wasn’t expecting you so soon, that’s all. I thought I’d have more time to….” She sighed. “Just more time.”

“Time for what?”

“To tell you,” she whispered.

He waited, but she didn't add to that statement.

“Did something happen?”

Belle gave a little laugh. “Oh yes.” Her hand squeezed his. Then, just as suddenly, her grasp relaxed and instead she lead him into a tight embrace, bringing their hands together just above her belly. With a sigh, she leaned into him, turning to him in a wordless plea for a kiss to which he happily complied.

“Just give me a moment. Please?” Belle asked, smile tremulous but not distressed. Instead there was an intensity to her expression that Rumpelstiltskin could not decode, and he was nodding in acceptance of her terms even when he had no clue of the underlying deal. “Don’t worry,” she said, as if reading his mind, “it’s nothing you wouldn’t have noticed soon enough.”

 

The End  
01/07/17


	3. tangible

For weeks, Rumpelstiltskin is able to put Belle’s ‘condition’ out of his mind. He does his best to avoid her, leaving the castle for several days in a row and returning in the dead of the night, shutting himself in his laboratory when he is home. When he thinks of her, he immediately shifts his focus toward a new project, forcing his mind to review lists of ingredients and their appropriate measures for greater and more effective potions.

The few times he and Belle cross ways, he vanishes within seconds. Words will flee him at the sight of her, and rational thought decamps before he even dares to meet her eyes.

All he knows is that she still stays. Despite what he told her. Despite his utter failure. All that matters is that she is still walking in his hallways, sleeping in a room that could have been called theirs, not too long ago.

But avoidance can’t last forever.

It comes crashing to an end the first time he sees her and notices the change in her form, the new roundness to her. His child already growing.

Belle laughs at him. “Now you’ll believe me?”

Rumpelstiltskin can’t form an answer. Neither can he tear his gaze away.

“You idiot,” she says, not one drop of fondness to be heard.

But she is still there, he reminds himself. If he reached out, he would touch her. Even the babe she carries is tangible now, and his fingers twitch at the thought of tracing that soft curve under which they reside. “I know,” he whispers, swallowing hard.

Because this is what Rumpelstiltskin has tried not to acknowledge all these weeks: he has nothing to offer her. All this time and all the distance, and he still can only offer his broken self to the mother of his child.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, and knows they are the wrong words when Belle flinches back.

“Well, I’m not,” she hisses back, already turning away, taking herself and her child as far away from him as the castle allows.

But she stays within the same walls as Rumpelstiltskin.

She doesn’t leave.

Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t dare to guess at her reasons, but he is forever grateful for whatever they might be.


	4. outrageous

The queen’s eyes are bright. How must she relish this chance to find Belle on her own so she can spew her poison! Tales about Rumpelstiltskin’s temper. Whispers of the deals he’s made, and the destroyed people left behind. When none of that seems to affect Belle, the queen abruptly changes tracks to a more personal venue.

“How goes being mistress instead of maid, little one?”

Belle raises her chin, glancing at a nearby painting instead of acknowledging the boorish question.

The queen giggles. “Pardon me. Is that over and done already?” Before Belle can make her distaste for such conversation obvious, the queen reaches out to take her hand. “You poor darling. Was he very mean to you? Did he break your heart too?” Her fingertips move in a flurry of little taps, a mockery of consolation, but her voice sings with giddy cruelty at what she assumes Belle’s fate must be. “Will that rat still not let you go, even after he’s had his fun with you?”

“I don’t regret staying,” Belle tells her, snatching her hand back.

The queen tilts her head, examining her with a curious look. “Ah. I see he hasn’t tired of you yet. What a delicious, sweet morsel you must be, dear one.”

Belle presses her lips together, determined to say nothing.

“But surely you are already thinking of the future,” the queen continues. “Where will you go once he shows you to the door? Do you have any friends who will still take you in after your… association… with the Dark One?”

“I promised to stay here forever.”

A corner of the queen’s lips lifts. “But did he promise to keep you for that long?” Her smile grows at Belle’s blink of surprise at that notion. “Oh no. You can’t be that naive, my dear! A word from his lips, and your deal is over. Finished. He will have no more responsibility to take care of you as he would a stray dog.”

“He wouldn’t…”

The queen looks her in the eye. “Oh, but he has done so before. Kicked them to the curb. Left them to fend for themselves. The moment they didn’t act according to his wishes, he was done with them.” She shrugs. “It does not pay well, to be the Dark One’s toy.”

At that Belle pushes herself to her feet, using the momentary advantage of height to look down on the queen in disgust. “I don’t have to stay here, Your Majesty, and listen to outrageous lies!”

The queen tilts her head up, thickly painted lips curving into a pitying smile, and gives a dismissive wave. “Fine, then. Run back to whatever you were doing.” The arch of her eyebrows says that she can’t conceive what a girl does in the Dark Castle when she is neither a servant nor student. “I wasn’t expecting you to listen, anyway.”

Belle straightens, giving the other woman the politest nod she can dredge up from beneath her dislike and utter distrust.

Rumpelstiltskin might have made his peace with his former pupil, but Belle believes that forgiveness comes after a show of sincere regret. The queen laughs and offers unsolicited advice, but it never seems to cross her mind to apologize for the attempt to use Belle against Rumpelstiltskin or all that passed when she failed.

Belle would gladly show the queen to the door, if only she had the authority to make such decisions, but she must settle for barely veiled attempts to send this uninvited guest on her way.

“Rumpelstiltskin will take at least a few hours until he returns,” she informs the other woman gladly.

The queen sighs. “That imp does enjoy to make people wait.”

Belle says nothing. It’s the truth. “I don’t believe he’s aware of your visit,” she hints again. “It might take him longer, if he has no reason to return so soon.”

A smirk, followed by a pointed look at Belle’s midsection. “Oh. No reason, you say?”

Too late, Belle realizes that standing up has revealed her condition.

“I believe he’ll come by nightfall at the very least,” the queen says. “It used to be that you could count on the Dark One to be available day or night, ready to come to any corner of the Enchanted Forest, but lo! Now it doesn’t look like he’ll make any effort to attend a summoning, if it means leaving the warmth of… his bed.”

Belle glares at the other woman, but only gets an amused stare for her trouble. “I’m sure you can make yourself comfortable,” she says coldly, avoiding the obvious bait laid out for her. She refuses to trade even the smallest of confidences with a woman who is sometimes Rumpelstiltskin’s pupil and sometimes his rival. It’s bad enough that the queen has noticed the pregnancy. “Forgive me for not keeping you company, but I feel like I must retire early.”

The queen gives her a cloyingly sweet smile. “Of course, my dear,” she says, waving a hand to summon a tea service. “Don’t stay up on my account. I don’t doubt you’ll be needing more rest as the weeks go.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You do believe that, don’t you?” The queen laughs, turning away for a moment to pour herself a cup. Her head shakes, and when she looks at Belle again there’s a bitter twist on her lips. “You really believe a child will move the likes of Rumpelstiltskin? Wake up, little girl. Power doesn’t mix well with parenthood, and sooner or later he will prove that to you.”

 _I know_ , Belle doesn’t say, and then reassures herself that the worst is already behind them.

Rumpelstiltskin has already done everything in his power to drive her away, short of physically removing her from the Dark Castle. After that, the queen’s dark predictions pale in comparison.

The queen’s eyes widen. “You actually trust him. That old bastard.”

“I do,” Belle says simply.

“Well, then. I can see why you wouldn’t believe my warning.” The queen takes half a spoonful of sugar to stir into her tea, her movements slow as she considers her next words. “But if you really believe he will be loyal… if you trust his honesty that much… then it won’t be a problem to ask him a little question, will it?”

Refusing to listen equals giving up the unvoiced challenge.

Belle dips her head in s short nod.

The queen grins. “Ask Rumple where my mother is,” she says, leaning forward with anticipatory glee, “and once he has accused me, ask him how I got the means to send her there!”


	5. Chapter 5

Regina cursed inwardly at the sight that awaited her in her bedchamber, showing no signs of exertion after breaking through her wards. The greatest power in the realm poured off the smirking imp and permeated every inch of the room, a clear display to leave her in no doubt of her failure.

The maid had been useless, then. What a waste of time!

“Rumple!” she said easily, locking down the instinctive fear at the prospect of an angry Dark One in close quarters. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Inhuman eyes lit up with wicked amusement. “I suppose not. Wonder why, eh?”

*

“I heard you visited, but to chat with the help.” Rumpelstiltskin shook his head as if disappointed. “Quite the intriguing chat, too.”

“Uh-oh!” Regina’s lips pursed into an insincere pout. “Am I in trouble?”

A hollow laugh. “For following your nature? I’d sooner blame a viper for its poison. No, dearie. However,” he bared his teeth as he stretched that word, “you meddled with my household. That has a price, too.”

Regina gasped in outrage as a beating heart appeared in his hand. The Huntsman was hers!

He spoke icily over her protest. “Next time I’m taking your father’s. Understood?”


	6. press

Belle grabs his wrist before he can invent an excuse and leave a trail of smoke in his place. “Come on,” she commands him - yes,  _commands_. Because in this matter she makes the rules and he follows them, and she has grown tired of watching him ignore her gentler hints.

“There,” she says, guiding his hand to where the baby is moving. “Feel that?”

The most-feared Dark One sinks to his knees.

Belle stifles a gasp, unwilling to break the moment.

“…Yes,” he says at last.

His head is turned down to stare at his hand on her, his face hidden by a curtain of hair. But he cannot hide his voice, and that one word makes Belle wonder whether he’s ever sounded as awed.

Maybe the first time he touched her, flesh to flesh.

How that moment led to this, she knows well; the moments of happiness and those of confusion, when she thought her heart would burst with love and when it broke to pieces around her. Through it all she has hoped that Rumpelstiltskin’s love would shine through. If not for her, for their child. So many months fearing to have become a responsibility to him, the burden of a deal gone awry… It all eases at the shake of his shoulders and the hitch in his breath.

“That’s our child, Rumple,” she says softly.

He nods.

Despite the layers of cloth, Belle feels him press his hand against her, wordlessly seeking to prolong the contact with their child. The little one responds with another kick, drawing a huff of laughter out of both their parents.

“Thank you, Belle,” he tells her, glancing up with a tremulous smile.

Belle can’t stop herself from drawing her hand through his hair, caressing his forehead as she does. “For wanting you to touch me?” She chuckles, bypassing the gravity in his tone. There will be time for serious conversation later, but for now she only wants to share this moment with the man she loves. “I think we’re long past that.”

His eyes spark with laughter, but when he speaks, his voice is in earnest. “No. For far more than that.  _Thank you, Belle_.”

Belle thought herself beyond blushes, yet she feels her cheeks heat at that. She doesn’t know what to say, so she resorts to the habit of good manners. “You’re welcome?”

Rumpelstiltskin nods again. He doesn’t rise to his feet, doesn’t take his hand off her. “Yes,” he says slowly, as if weighing his words with care, “I think I am.”


	7. tears

Blotting her tears with the back of her hand, Belle clutched her fingers around the teacup Rumpelstiltskin had conjured for her at the start of his revelation. It was cold now, but the sharp scent of mint that drifted to her nostrils reminded her that, despite the monstrous truths that came from his mouth, Rumpelstiltskin was a caring man at heart.

Mint tea was far from his favorite, yet he would uncomplainingly drink it after they’d discovered that it helped her keep down her meals.  
  
He meant well, Belle reminded herself, biting her lips to stop crying. Even bogged down in darkness, his only goal was to reach the son he’d lost. She didn’t fault his intention (how could she, as her own child grew within her?), but neither could she give her blessing to a curse that would damn hundreds of people. “I— I  _can’t_ , Rumple,” she said, setting the cup down to hug herself. “This thing you’re planning…. It’s terrible.”  
  
“It’s the only way,” he reiterated, eyes wide with fervor.  
  
Belle looked away. She thought of the boy he’d described, his Baelfire. “Are you so sure your son will thank you for it?”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin leaped to his feet, a snarl caught in his throat. “You don’t understand! I will do anything for Baelfire!” He started pacing, and then stopped to loom over her, his voice a strangled hiss. “I will reach the world without magic, Belle. I have waited long enough. No matter the price. No matter what it costs—”  
  
“Me?” she interrupted, whipping her head up. Their eyes met, his own pleading for acceptance even while Belle’s mounted on fury. “What it costs  _this_  child?”  
  
“Belle….”  
  
“You can’t place one child over the other, Rumpelstiltskin,” she snapped, knowing he would never accept that the whole of the Enchanted Forest couldn’t be turned into a disposable piece to be sacrificed for the sake of his son. Strangers were nothing to the Dark One, even in less important matters. However, if Rumpelstiltskin was driven to madness to protect Baelfire, then the new baby deserved as much of his father’s single-minded obsession to see him safe. “You will  _not_  choose between them.”  
  
Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth parted. “I’m not… Belle, no.” He reached for her hands, his fingers as cold as hers and squeezed until she felt the edge of his nails at her palm. “Truly. I wouldn’t! But it’s the only way…”  
  
Belle wondered how many times he repeated that to himself every day. Whether it was even the truth anymore, after three hundred years.  
  
“So you’ll do it anyway,” she said, the words weighing on her as nothing had since the news that her home was sure to fall under the ogres. “You will let this curse take us all.”  
  
In the silence that followed, Belle loosened her hands from his.  
  
He stared at her, the plea in his eyes becoming anger, then dread, and then anger again. His hands curled into tight fists, and he set his jaw to glare at her. “You can’t stop it,” he whispered, half statement, half warning.  
  
Belle tilted her head up, coming to her feet with slow movements. “No,” she agreed, denying her misery from dragging her shoulders down. “Not if you truly mean to follow that path.” She turned her back to him, shaking her head so she wouldn’t start weeping again. “But I can be just as ruthless a parent, Rumple,” she told him. “You protect your child, and I’ll protect ours.”  
  
“That’s not…”  
  
“I will protect him!” She swirled around to meet his eyes in challenge. “ _Even from his father_!” 

 

The End  
13/07/17


	8. detailed

With the candles of her room blown out for the night, it is easier for them to relax into something like their closeness from before they knew about the coming child and the weeks of uncertainty that followed.

Belle presses closer to Rumpelstiltskin, keeping her mind away from the fact that his hands won’t touch below her breasts and more often keep themselves to her shoulder and arms. She doesn’t want to know whether her body is disgusting to him now, whether it’s the change to her figure or the child itself that has him restrain himself.

She doesn’t want to hate him when it’s so obvious that he’s trying to make amends.

“Where did you go this time?” she asks softly, hoping to distract herself from any unwelcome thoughts with a detailed account of his latest trip. It has been months since he’s left for longer than a few hours, and the tales he brings back have suffered for it. “Was it interesting?”

Rumpelstiltskin shifts a little, just enough to lift his head and turn toward her. For the next few seconds, Belle feels his gaze studying her despite the darkness. “Not that interesting,” he tells her, sounding slightly apologetic. “And not too far, either. Just down to Sherwood Forest.”

The name sounds familiar… of course! That was where they ended up, the day Rumpelstiltskin chased after the bandit archer. “Oh?”

“We need a discrete midwife,” he tells her, his voice very low and very hesitant. “I figured that the one who helped an outlaw’s wife might be willing to help my— to help  _you_.”

Belle doesn’t mind his inability to define their relationship now. Most days she’s not sure what to call him either. “Did you find her?”

He sighs. “It was a fool’s mission. It’s a wonder the birth didn’t kill that woman, weak as she was after her illness and with only that band of nuisances to assist her.”

Instinctively Belle curls a little tighter, one hand going to cover her abdomen over her nightclothes.

“Shh,” Rumpelstiltskin soothes her, pulling her against him until she can rest her head on his shoulder. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“Or the child.”

To her relief, he doesn’t hesitate. “Or the child, of course.”

Belle gets comfortable in her new position. Throws an arm around him for better balance and turns her whole body toward him so the growing baby is between them, her belly snug against his side. Rumpelstiltskin makes a choked noise, but doesn’t shift away. Doesn’t return the hug, either.

Belle reminds herself that he’s just wandered into the territory of one who must resent him for his stay in the dungeons, and that he went looking for a woman to help her.

“We have a couple months yet,” she tells him, even if she has no idea where to find a woman willing to enter the Dark Castle and yet trustworthy enough not to sell the information of the Dark One’s newest weak spot to his enemies. But Belle believes that there are good people in the world, and if she lets go of that hope she will never be the mother her child deserves. “We’ll find someone, Rumple.”

At least this time Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t encourage her to leave and have her child where no one can link either of them to the Dark One. Instead he mutters her name and she thinks she feels his lips skim her hairline. “Yes, dear. I’ll figure something out.”


	9. zephyr

Belle sat down with a loud groan of relief, throwing her head back and her arms over the side of the cushioned arm rests. With a small wave of her hand, she motioned at her invisible companion to thread around her, blowing a soft breeze down her neck and touching her sweaty forehead with cool little currents.

Rumpelstiltskin best gift to her over this unending summer was the introduction to the mischievous zephyr who’d earned a short sentence of service in exchange for a favor from the Dark One.

Now if only there would be another creature in charge of carrying her up the stairs….

“Hello, dearie.” Rumpelstiltskin spared her a glance while he carefully sifted what looked like grains of salt - if salt came in robin-egg blue - into a silver bowl. There was a flame near his elbow, bright yet unnaturally still. Belle craned her neck so she could look at him more fully, but the only hint that his concentration was split was the little frown he always wore when he was trying not to let her distract him.

Obviously she had caught him in the midst of an experiment, but this time he wasn’t complaining. Neither did he ask her to leave the room, so Belle assumed it was safe for her and the baby, and relaxed into the chair with a content sigh.

It mustn’t have sounded too content to Rumpelstiltskin, because he paused and looked over her. Darting eyes took stock of her, somehow managing to skip from her neck to her knees. “You are tired,” he said.

“Yes,” she admitted, burrowing into a more comfortable pose. “I miss being able to climb up those steps without needing a break every ten feet.”

His nose twitched. “Perhaps you could stay in your room - or the library?”

“Perhaps I could die of boredom,” she retorted.

Rumpelstiltskin’s hand froze in mid-air. He blinked, then frowned. Put down his work to glance at her with a quirked eyebrow. “Did I hear that right? Has the girl who promised to devour every book I brought for her, grown bored by the task?”

Belle pouted. “Yes and no. Baby keeps kicking in the middle of the most interesting chapters.” This direct mention of their child made Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes widen, and he flicked an uneasy glance at her body as he wet his lips. Belle took pity on him, as she had since she understood that Rumpelstiltskin did not resent the pregnancy, but rather some obscure fears that had rooted in his mind. All those horrible scenarios he had created for those who failed on a deal, he was just as adept at thinking for himself. “I thought they might be hungry, but almost half a peach pie later, I can tell you that’s not it.” She rubbed her belly fondly, aware that pretending not to notice Rumpelstiltskin’s discomfort helped him pull himself together more quickly. She didn’t even look up. “This baby just refuses to spend another moment reading a book.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s titter announced he wasn’t mulling on dark thoughts anymore. “Have you tried something besides your tales of adventure?” he suggested.

Belle poked her tongue out. “Those are the best!”

“Come, sweetheart. How many times can one hear about handsome heroes swinging their sword at whatever beast that crosses their way?” He shook his head. “We get enough of those at the doorstep, Belle. Can you blame the little one for wanting to hear about something different?”

Belle returned his grin with a little shrug. “I think what they want is my complete attention. Greedy little bugger.” She patted her stomach. “Who wants Mommy to think only about you, huh?”

“Can’t blame them for that either.”

Belle’s gaze snapped up, meeting his eyes for a moment. He quickly gulped and looked down, fiddling with his sieve and bowl again. A few months before, Belle would have sprung from her seat and rushed over to throw her arms around the silly man. Now just the thought of pushing herself off the chair was exhausting.

She settled for calling his name.

When Rumpelstiltskin sighed and turned toward her, it was to blink at her smile. “There’s space for more than the baby in my thoughts. You know that already; right, Rumple?”

Very slowly, he nodded.

Belle relaxed with satisfaction. “Good.”


	10. snow

It’s too early in the morning to concern himself with spells and potions, or so Rumpelstiltskin has decreed as soon as he caught sight of two familiar shapes wandering down the paths.

Without bothering to give himself an excuse, he waves a hand to return various roots, body parts, and other ingredients back to their cabinets, and settles at the window to watch Belle’s newest attempt to teach their son to walk on his own.

Belle’s green cloak is the one spot of color in the gardens, otherwise covered by the white of last night’s snowfall. Her voice won’t carry this far, but if he strains his hearing he can catch Gideon’s giddy squeals as he finds his footing on ground softer than the floor of the nursery.

The boy’s hands are in a firm grasp around his mother’s, and from Belle’s body language Rumpelstiltskin can tell that she’s trying to coax him into taking another step.

Gideon shakes his head, content to be held as he looks around with curious eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin lets out a soft laugh, allowing himself the pain of remembering another little boy who was always happy to chase after a butterfly even if his short legs didn’t allow him to keep up for long.

The memory is bittersweet, but it does give him an idea.

A twirl of his fingers, and a flurry of white butterflies rise from the snow, moving into an arc of delicate ice wings just beyond Gideon’s reach. His son’s screech reaches his ears with such strength that Rumpelstiltskin mentally apologizes to Belle’s eardrums. The boy lurches forward, releasing his mother in his newfound greed for the magical creatures, and wavers for a moment, unknowingly drawing his parents’ focus to himself, with Belle ready to grab him if he stumbles and Rumpelstiltskin ready to whisk him away. But instead the small body stays upright, if a step away from where it was before.

And then another.

Rumpelstiltskin grins.

Belle turns around, just for one second before her gaze is back on their boy, and finds him with unerring accuracy. “Thank you,” she mouths at him.

He nods.

She smiles.

Gideon laughs again.

Right now, all is right in the world.


	11. Your Friends, My Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @white-throated-packrat asked ‘grist’

Rumpelstiltskin waited until she finished telling the dwarf’s pathetic sob story, then sighed with exasperation. “I leave you alone with the princess’s retinue for half an hour, and you make friends with the weepiest of the lot.” He ignored her lifted eyebrow, unwilling to admit the deal with Snow White had taken almost the whole day. “At least the wolf would make a useful ally in a fight - and a less soggy one!”

“I liked Red too, but she didn’t offer to play with Gideon when he grew fussy.” 

Both their eyes went to the bassinet placed close to their couch, and their expressions softened.

“Now I see,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Smart dwarf. Found the quickest way to your good graces, didn’t he?”

“Dreamy wouldn’t have done it with second intentions,” Belle told him. “Most importantly, Gideon liked him.”

The approval of their child was all the character reference she needed.

Rumpelstiltskin could have mentioned Gideon’s tantrums when Regina came to visit and didn’t pick him up, but said nothing because he still wasn’t sure whether the boy’s preference for his former pupil was a reflection of Belle’s forgiving heart or of his own habit of annoying Regina.

(And oh, did she huff and whine every time the boy tottered up to cling to her skirts!).

His mood improved by the memory of the Evil Queen besieged by a stubborn toddler, he passed an arm over Belle’s shoulders, bringing her over the few inches that had separated them. “All right. I’ll be nice to your dwarf if he ever returns.”

Belle placed her head on his shoulder, hands busy as they played with the top of his shirt buttons. “It’d be ‘nice’ if we could help him.”

Having expected that request, Rumpelstiltskin smiled and dropped a fond kiss on her forehead. “A dwarf longing for a fairy,” he mused out loud, barely holding back a disbelieving snort at the notion, “and the fairy showed some interest back?”

Belle nodded. “That’s what he implied.”

He trusted her judgment. If she believed the dwarf’s tale, then it must be true.

“How peculiar!” Three hundred years, and he’d never heard as much as a whisper of such a thing. Fairies either followed Rheul Ghorm or they disappointed her and were deprived of their wings. There was no middle ground. “If the feeling is strong enough to affect them, then it might be true love. And if it’s true love…” It dawned on him why the head fairy would have quashed any gossip. It wouldn’t be to her advantage to provide any grist to that particular rumor mill. “Oh, Blue. You wicked, wicked fairy!”

Belle stared at him in confusion for a moment, but her quick mind followed his thought process without his help. “True love supersedes Blue’s control over a fairy’s life,” she gasped.

Rumpelstiltskin laughed. “Not my rules, just the way things are. Most powerful magic of all, and all that.”

He still had the ingredients for a potion, minus a few hars that shouldn’t be impossible to retrieve. He imagined the reaction of his old enemy once he presented her with the proof - or no, even better: he would have her beloved Snow White do it, in the name of justice and happiness, while he laughed from the sidelines… 

An elbow nudged him.

“You’re plotting, Rumple.”

He snickered, nodding happily. “And at your request, too.”

Her sigh was loud but not wholly disapproving. “I’d just like for Dreamy to have another chance. Can you arrange it?”

“And risk dissent and the prospect of rebellion among the winged lines?” He practically vibrated with enthusiasm now. “Being a friend of yours, my dear, how could I deny him?”

 

The End  
13/07/17


	12. hackle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @white-throated-packrat prompted: hackle

Jefferson took a careful step back, making sure to head in the direction of the working spinning wheel. To those untutored in life at the Dark Castle, it would seem folly to seek refuge next to Rumpelstiltskin, but when Belle gathered her child closer against her chest and glared with such disgust, making it clear that only the dozing child was saving Jefferson from a sharp tongue-lashing, a smart man looked for the one who might soothe her temper.

“Eh, Rumple?” Jefferson asked, coughing a little when he realized his throat had gone dry. “Please tell your beautiful companion that I meant you no insult?”

The wheel kept turning, with nothing more than a soft giggle for an answer.

Rumpelstiltskin must be enjoying to have Belle so firmly on his side. After the trouble of the last year, Jefferson even understood his old friend. Seeing Belle with her hackles up over a perceived insult was much better than having her avoid company. However, in his opinion, this was an overreaction to an innocent quip. Not that he would mention that out loud, since he suspected it would land him in bigger trouble.

“C'mon, Rumpelstiltskin. You know as well as I do that your babe  _is_  lucky to take after his mother.” When the other man only flashed him a smirk, Jefferson huffed. “Traitor,” he muttered, confident that Belle wouldn’t hear him from across the room.

Jefferson turned back to the fuming girl, essaying a sheepish grin. “Honest, Belle. I didn’t mean anything-” he gulped when her eyes narrowed “- it was a joke! A bad, utterly tasteless joke, and you know I can be such a moron, right?”

Her tight-mouthed expression all but shouted that she agreed with him, and was considering whether his presence was necessary in her home. Having been once summarily dismissed by the master of the house because Belle had taken offense at one of his comments, Jefferson cast a despairing look around the room, hoping for inspiration.

He must have looked pathetic, because Rumpelstiltskin heaved a sigh and finally took pity on him. “Apologize,” came the helpful whisper.

Jefferson widened his eyes. Hadn’t he just…? Well, no. Not in as many words. It made sense that the woman who had chosen the Dealer as her lover paid as much attention to  _words_  as he did. “Ah, Belle?” he tried again. “I’m sorry, really. I only meant you’ve got a beautiful boy there.”

As expected, the compliment to the child softened the mother. She peered at him searchingly, and finding him honest, graced him with a little smile. “He is, isn’t he?” she crooned, shifting her arms so she could kiss the crown of the baby’s head. “You’re a love, my Gideon.”

Jefferson started breathing freely again.

The fastest way to fall out of favor with Rumpelstiltskin was to have Belle speak against him.

“Nice save,” Rumpelstiltskin congratulated him. “But for the record,” he said with a smile Jefferson was most familiar with, being a proud papa himself, “he does have my eyes.”

 

The End  
12/06/17


	13. “It’s snowing!”

“It’s snowing!” Gideon scrambled out of his mother’s lap, crawling across the wide windowsill to tap excitedly against the window, leaning in so close that his nose brushed the glass. “Look! Snowing!”

Belle frowned, as she had chosen that spot to read Gideon a new story precisely because it was cheery and sunlit. They were already weeks into spring, and the mountain weather showed no sign of regressing into wintery cold.

“There’s no snow, darling.”

Gideon just poked at the window, pointing with confident determination. “Snowing!”

Belle shifted to follow her toddler’s direction, finally discovering what he’d spotted.

Down by the road, an ornate carriage trod its way to the gates, the brilliant white marred by dirt and mud. Royalty, said the armed escort at the sides, though their dusty state revealed it was no magic user.

Regina or Elsa would never allow their retinue to be less than impeccable.

Belle puzzled over the visitor’s identity, then she caught sight of a familiar figure mounted at the head of the group. She almost didn’t recognize him in armor, but the ornate golden pommel of the sword he carried over his back was unmistakable.

Snowing, indeed.

“Rumpelstiltskin!”

A swirl of silver smoke grew a few steps away, and Rumpelstiltskin stepped out of it. “Yes, dear?”

He was smiling, relaxed. No sign of mischief or annoyance at the prospect of dealing with Regina’s stepdaughter again.

“We have visitors,” Belle told him, nodding toward the window.

His eyes lit up at that information, and he swept Gideon up onto his shoulders to take his place at the window. “Hmph.” The grin waned, replaced by a downturn of his lips. “Would you look at that, your favorite shepherd is back.”

Belle crossed her arms over her chest. “David is a prince now. Has been for a while, by your own making.”

“George’s making.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

He shrugged by way of answer, the movement so exaggerated that Gideon shrieked in giddy laughter atop him. “In either case, young David has stayed a shepherd. It’s the noble Prince James who rides up to my castle. And he brings his lovely wife.” His tone belied the words. “What new grievance has the Ice Queen against me, you think?”

“Snow,” Belle corrected. “Her name is Snow. And while we’re in the subject of names…”

She hopped off the windowsill to stand next to Rumpelstiltskin, then extended her arms towards their child. Rumpelstiltskin pouted, but he acquiesced and shifted so Gideon could be delivered to her.

“Honey,” she asked her boy, “who’s out there?”

Gideon pointed at the carriage, grinning widely.

“And what’s their name?”

“Snowing!”

Rumpelstiltskin hooted in laughter, actually throwing his head back and holding onto his stomach as if to contain his amusement.

“It’s not funny!”

“But, sweetheart,” he protested, still snickering. “It really is.” He bent to press his forehead against their son’s. “Who’s the cleverest boy, hm?” he whispered before he straightened again, tapping the boy lovingly under the chin. “Of course you are!”

Gideon looked up between his parents, then grinned.

“Rumple,” Belle said, trying not to sound charmed by their interaction. “He can’t grow up to be disrespectful.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow. “He respects his mother, that’s all he needs. Everyone else will have to earn it.”

“Rumple…”

He had already moved on. “Snowing,” he tried. “Snow-ing, Snow and Charm-ing. I like it!”

“You… You didn’t teach it to him?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “I deal in true names, my dear. Though, come to think of it,-” he gazed out the window “-those two act as such a unit that it may be theirs.”

Belle had no comment. She bounced Gideon a little, hoping to distract him. She hadn’t been shocked to learn that her child had an ease for magic, given who his father was, but true-naming was fairy magic. “But how did he know?”

Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand, unconcerned. “Probably overheard Jefferson. You know how he likes to play with words.”

The Hatter had come to visit a few days ago, asking to leave his Grace in the castle while he did a job. (He never left Grace alone after Wonderland.) Belle supposed he and Rumpelstiltskin might have spoken about mutual acquaintances, which did count the royal pair among their numbers, while Gideon overheard.

Or maybe Grace had coined the term and used it while sharing Gideon’s playroom. She now liked to make her dolls into princes and princesses for their tea.

“I guess,” Belle said, kissing the top of Gideon’s head. “Yes, that makes sense.”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, coming closer to kiss her cheek. “Ready to play the Dark Lady, my sweet Belle?”

Belle had to grin at that. Her friends knew better, but people like Snow White insisted that only darkness chose to stay with darkness, and David often followed her lead. “Not really. I’d rather finish the story I was reading to Gideon. You don’t mind?”

As an answer, she found herself sitting on the spacious armchair Rumpelstiltskin had added to the library in the last weeks of her pregnancy, their son wide-eyed but unruffled on her lap, and the book in question hovering within reach.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then, louder, gathering Gideon closer. “Now, my love. Why don’t we amuse ourselves while Papa is busy with another deal?”

 

The End  
03/12/18

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome!


End file.
